


Struggle

by lunarspeaks



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, Love/Hate, M/M, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), One-Eyed Carl Grimes, Protective Negan (Walking Dead), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, carl is 18, more tags as we go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-09-12 13:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9073081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarspeaks/pseuds/lunarspeaks
Summary: There will always be a push and pull between these two, a struggle, but maybe they can come to an understanding. 
Carl's taken away from his life in Alexandria and is now living with the enemy. More things come clear during his stay, but Carl isn't the only one noticing a change in himself. Perhaps this one-eyed, trigger-happy boy is a bit different than the rest.





	1. Moments Like These, We Understand Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> I've always liked Negan and Carls relationship, whether it's platonic or romantic. I enjoy the push and pull between both equally strong minded, independent characters. I like to think that Carl is Negan's weakness because of the fascination he has for him. And Carl will understand in time that things aren't so black and white. I think he'll look up to Negan in a way, for all he's been through and how he leads so strongly. Everyone's done bad shit, but the world isn't the same anymore. So why should the rules be?

"I wasn't _askin'_... Take it off." Negan's voice was always firm and gruff, leaving no room for disagreement. No matter how hard Carl tried. The two were currently in Negan's surprisingly cozy bedroom and they were seated across one another. Negan was dressed in his usual attire of tight jeans, combat boots, his leather jacket and red scarf. With his beloved Lucille perched by his side, Negan wore a sly smirk as his eyes gleamed with control and a hint of something else. He was leaning forward on the edge of the couch, eager as a child on Christmas morning. However, Carl was trembling and had shrunken back into the charcoal colored couch. His brave, albeit stupid actions had brought him here. He couldn't blame anyone else but himself, although, he also couldn't dismiss the fear that had settled in his gut. Negan was a loose canon. Truly, he marched to the beat of his own drum and one of the biggest reasons people feared him was for his unpredictability. Since Carl's arrival, the older man had made no indications of hurting him or punishing him. Negan had only disarmed him, then brought the young man to his quarters. The pair were alone inside of Negans room as he grew more and more impatient of Carl's hesitant removal of his bandage.

After a much needed gasp for air, Carl moved his trembling hands to slowly begin untying the wrap. His good eye was focused on his shoes as he worked and he could hear Negan growing excited, rubbing his hands together. His stomach rolled with disgust. Once the bandage was removed, he sat the cloth in his lap, but made no move to look up or acknowledge Negan at all. Luckily, his dark brown locks had grown enough to entirely cover his eye, so when Carl did move to glance at Negan, the older man gave a dramatic sigh.

"C'mon, kid... Move your fucking hair." His voice laced with irritation.

With a swift push of his hand, Carl's hair was swept away and all was revealed.

"Holy shit! No wonder you cover that thing up, it's disgusting!" Negan exclaimed, seeming to struggle with either wanting to lean in for a closer look or shy away in disgust. Though the genuine fascination never left his eyes.

Raw and gaping open, the kid's wound was proudly revealed. But pride was the furthest thing from his mind. The deep voice that belonged to his spectator continued, but it slowly faded from Carl's attention as his heart sank. He didn't look at his wound, not if he could help it. The bandage always stayed securely around it and when it came time to be changed, Carl had become quick and efficient so his one good eye didn't have to see the atrocity. Hatred boiled within his blood and his fists clenched automatically. But his anger dissolved when his bottom lip began to quiver. The vulnerability coursing through the young man was unlike anything he'd ever felt. In a world that had forced him into adulthood so quickly, he hardly had the time to process what had happened to him. The pain no longer radiated from his injury, but from his darkened heart. He felt mutilated and damaged. A deformed version of his former self.

He hadn't shown anyone what remained of his eyes since Denise had operated on him the night it all occured. In this world, Carl was a young man who put on a facade of being tough and made of steel. But on the outside, his mutilated eye reminded him of his mortality and it made him feel immensely weak.

Therefore, when Carl felt the wetness of tears spilling down his flushed cheek, he wasn't surprised. In fact, he somewhat welcomed the release of his pent up emotions. Always moving and fighting against the shit constantly surrounding him, he needed to expel some of his frustrations. Besides, Negan had already exposed him. Carl felt ripped open, his heart, soul and insecurities bared to the enemy.

It was only when Carl's head turned down, shielding his eye with his hair and his body began to be wracked with sobs that Negan finally took notice.

"Aw, shit, kid." Negan sighed and leaned closer. His large, heavy hand came to settle on Carl's knee, causing him to slightly flinch. "I... I'm sorry, it's easy to forget you're just a kid." His voice strained and when Carl moved his eye to meet Negans eyes, he was surprised to find genuine remorse shining in their depths. "Listen, kid. I was just... fuckin' around. You know, bustin' your balls. It's what guys do," he shrugged, running his fingers through his own hair.

"Anyways, I'm sorry. That eye is badass." Carl immediately rolled his good eye and Negan snorted.

"Seriously, I love it! I mean, you took a fuckin' shot to the head and you lived! That's fucking awesome. Shit, I wouldn't cover it up," he exclaimed, making Carl look at him as if he were crazy. "It may not be a hit to the ladies, but no one is going to fuck with you looking like that." Negan smiled and Carl quickly wiped the tears from his face. His cheeks were beginning to burn from embarrassment. Suddenly, it didn't feel as if Negan were poking fun at him. Sure, he was a strange person and his initial reaction wounded Carl. But in all honesty, Carl didn't realize that Negan's reaction would matter to him at all. The young man grew embarrassed as Negan's praises continued on.

"You're strong, Carl. You are unbelievably badass and you don't take anybody's shit! That's what I like about you... Your awesome eye is just the cherry on top." Carl marveled at his words and his chest swelled with... pride? happiness? He couldn't name it but the emotion was overwhelming. Negan never used his name, usually opting for kid, little serial killer or some other fucked up nickname. Carl felt like Negan was opening up and speaking to him like an adult. No bullshit or some hidden motive. Negan's voice rang with truth and conviction and that was equally unnerving for Carl as him swinging around a bat and naming it.

"I understand you, Carl. What happened to your eye is what happened to me... inside. We're both broken... fucked up or different in a way. But that makes us that much stronger." His grip tightened on Carl's knee momentarily and the boy couldn't help but shiver.

It was odd to see Negan like this.

It felt as if Negan was trying to be equally vulnerable with him. He was admitting that there was something they both shared and Carl had never thought of it that way. Maybe the way Carl's wound showed on the outside, physical evidence of the pure shit he'd gone through, Negan's displayed on the inside, twisting and warping a part inside of him unlike anyone around him. The mere fact that Negan had even attempted to comfort Carl, made the kid smile slightly.

Carl pulled himself together, wiping away the last of his tears.

"There, see? I'm an asshole, but I couldn't just... I couldn't hurt you like that, kid.." he said with a final pat on Carl's knee, then stood and picked up Lucille. There was a smile upon his lips, but a hint of worry was still evident in his eyes. "C'mon, Carl. Let me show you your new home." He said before heading for the door.

Carl stood but hesitated, looking at the crumpled bandages discarded on the table.

"Wait, Negan," he started, making the older man halt in his tracks. "Can I cover my eye?" Despite how much better about it he actually felt after hearing Negan's reassuring words, he still didn't want anyone else to see it.

Negan turned and stared at the boy. His gaze intense as his eyes bored into Carl's good baby blue eye, then where his other eye used to be. It made Carl freeze, feeling naked under Negan's scrutiny.

With two strides, Negan was looming over Carl's figure oozing control over him, but the hand he placed on the boys shoulder was gentle and reassuring. Negan gave him a slight smile, with a mischievous edge to his mossy eyes. "After a while, we've got to get used to what we don't like about ourselves, kid." With a squeeze to his shoulder, Negan exited the room.

Carl sighed and trudged after him, settling to cover his eye with his long, brown bangs. It didn't fully hide the healed wound, however, it would suffice for now.

 

Negan took him on a tour and showed him the entirety of Sanctuary.

Carl was absolutely astounded by the vastness of it all and the large number of people there. Negan had singlehandedly built an army. His men lived decent enough and everyone literally bowed in his presence. The older man seemed almost God-like in a strange way. It wouldn't be hard to admire him for the respect he'd gained and all that came with it.

However, Carl knew the true lengths he went through to attain his lavish life. The boy couldn't help the lump of emotion that rose in his throat when he wondered how many people died to make their lives easier. How many people were sleeping on floors, wearing raggedy clothes and eating trash to provide the absolute best for the Saviors.

Carl had gained an edge of respect for the man, but it was overshadowed by hate.

 

 

 


	2. You're Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl comes to the realization that his stay isn't exactly his choice and meets one of Negan's "friends" in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the wait, guys and gals! I've been sick with bronchitis and just too busy to even cope with writing.. T_T   
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy! This one is longer than the first so... happy reading!

_"No exceptions!"_

_The voice that was becoming far too familiar shouted and all that followed was the resounding thwack of the barbed-wired bat mincing meat. Flashes of crimson splattered in the darkness, only illuminated by the vehicle headlights surrounding them._

**_Smack! Smack! Smack!_ **

_The bat was no longer brown but scarlet, steadily dripping with the blood of his friends. Slivers of meat and hair was mashed into the object, molding to it, becoming part of it. These were his friends. People he used to laugh, joke and fight with. People that he loved and had become his family through bond, not blood. Now reduced to chunks of scattered brain bits and endless puddles of blood, stomped carelessly into the dirty ground. They didn't deserve it. He wished it was him. Why wasn't it him? A scream rang out, blood curdling and hoarse. For seconds, then minutes until Carl realized it was his own._

A startled gasp left Carl's chapped lips as he lurched forward in his bed.

No, not his _own_ bed. His bed was back in Alexandria, surrounded by his family and friends. No, this was the Saviors property and lurking around every corner was an enemy, probably anxious to have his head. Carl awoke, wide-eyed, heart hammering in his chest and sweat trailing down his brow. His body was overheated and flushed from the nightmare that he couldn't seem to shake. It took Carl a moment to adjust, a moment to rid his mind of the horrible images of his family, beaten and bloody against the ground. Although, it never truly left his mind.

One azure eye scanned the room and found it empty and silent, other than his labored breathing. He'd made sure to lock the door before he slept, however, he was positive Negan had some sort of master key. Too paranoid to actually relax last night, he simply laid on top of the covers, fully clothed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually, his exhaustion got the better of him and he drifted off to sleep.

Carl moved slowly out of bed, his body aching from fatigue and his clothes damp with sweat. Luckily, his room had a small bathroom attached to it. Negan said the water worked well enough, just not to use it for too long.

Carl walked into the small bathroom, the dim light making the white tiles look yellow and washed out. The toilet and sink were right next to each other and right across was a one person shower with a transparent door. He smiled slightly, moving to turn on the shower. A nice, hot shower would help wash away the remnants of his bad night.

The steam from the burning water wafted around him, quickly clouding the air. He stripped, taking his time to peel away his clothes and discard them on the waiting floor below. Looking in the mirror, he felt so bare. Negan had taken his hat, gun and even the spare roll of bandages he kept for his eye. The man said it was badass and that he even liked it but Carl would always be skeptical. It would always be an insecurity of his. Either way, he had no choice but to try and get used to it now.

The young man stepped into the shower, hissing slightly as the scalding drops of water rained down onto his pale skin. He welcomed the sting that was making his flesh redden. Couldn't help the sigh that left his lips as the waves of water rushed over his frame, washing his hair and body clean. Clean was something he hadn't truly felt in years. His fingers ran over the old scar on the lower right side of his abdomen. Fondly, he remembered the beautiful deer he'd saw that day. Magnificent coat, tall antlers and glowing eyes, standing proudly amongst the trees. He remembered getting closer than he ever had, feeling so lucky that the creature had decided to let him see it so clearly. The moment had been so pure and exquisite. However, what unfurled seconds later made Carl rely on such beauty to forget it's tragedy. A bullet, piercing through the deer and straight into him. Instantly slaying the deer, but he was another story.

It should've killed him. Sometimes, he wished it had.

He felt the raised scar on his skin once more. There were so many now and all were a constant reminder of his fight. The fight for survival fought by him and everyone he loved. Years had passed, but the fight still kept on. It would probably last forever.

Carl jumped out of the shower, dried off, then slid on his clothes and worn boots. Instead of using his hair as a curtain for his mutilated eye, he pushed it back and tucked the longer strands behind his ear. His eye was on display while the rest of his face was settled in a permanent scowl. _You're a badass... you're not scared of shit.._ Those words echoed faintly in his head. If that's what Negan thought, then he'd have to play the part.

With that, he opened the door to his room and started down the hall. He maneuvered through the halls cautiously, remembering the way to Negan's room. Luckily, he didn't run into anyone on his way. When he reached the door, he lifted a fist to harshly pound against the metal.

"Negan!" he called and waited. A muffled rustling and cursing could be heard before the door was yanked open.

"You better have a good fuckin' reason for waking me up, boy," he growled. The older man was in a complete state of disarray. His hair was ruffled, unruly from sleep while his eyes were still lowered with light bags beneath them. He almost looked normal, in a way. Without blood splattered across his face and his signature bright, dimpled smile across his face.

"I want to leave," Carl sneered, clenching his fists. He was done playing this game or whatever it was. He knew Negan wasn't going to kill him so he just couldn't understand _why_ he wanted him here.

Negan rolled his eyes and grabbed the boy's collar, yanking him past the threshold and into the room. After he slammed the door shut, he turned on him with an amused smirk splayed across his face.

"So, you think you can just... come in here and force me to let you go?" He threw his head back in laughter, genuinely fascinated by the kid's courage. Anyone else would've pissed their pants at the thought of confronting him like this. But not Carl. "You're not leaving," he turned serious in an instant, however, the smile remained. It always lingered.

Carl rolled his one good eye, crossing his arms. Anger rolled off him in waves and Negan's cocky grin didn't lessen it at all.

"Why the hell not?" The boy yelled. "You're not gonna kill me, cause if you were you would've done it by now." He was one step away from stomping around the room and destroying all of Negan's shit in a blind rage. It was childish, he knew, but there was no other way to express his anger. The need to kill Negan hadn't disappeared but he simply couldn't muster up the effort to do so. The hate hadn't dissipated, but Carl couldn't help feeling uninterested. He only wanted to leave. Why wouldn't he let him leave?

Negan took two steps closer, a menacing look taking over his face as he leaned to level out their faces. Eyes to eye. Their level of intensity matched the other, but it was slightly unbalanced by the darkness lurking within the depths of Negan's eyes. There was always another layer underneath. One that Carl couldn't breach or even begin to understand yet.

"You're mine," the older man breathed. The taunt was always there. Sometimes, he wanted Carl to argue back. The thrill of hearing the kid struggle against every word Negan said was always exciting. But this was not one of those times.

Luckily, Carl didn't get the chance to speak.

They were interrupted by a knock on the door, making them move away from each other. Joey poked his head through, looking nervous and reeking of sweat and bologna sandwiches.

"Uh... sir. T-the iron is ready," he stuttered, glancing around the room.

Negan nodded, dismissing him. Waiting for the soft click of the lock, Negan turned his attention towards Carl. The kid was looking down, probably beginning to sulk, but he wasn't arguing so the older man felt relieved. _That_ fact was non negotiable. While the kid moped, Negan smoothed his hair back and and donned his leather jacket, combat boots and his right hand gal, Lucille.

"C'mon, kid," he said.

Their walk towards the main hall was quiet and while it was usually a short one, this time it seemingly stretched on. The kid was shorter than him, however, he managed to keep pace. After his surprise arrival, Negan had taken that awful hat and it finally seemed like the boy was coming to peace with his demons. The man took notice of the kid's hair being pushed back, which allowed Negan an uninterrupted view of his face. At the moment, Carl seemed to be struggling with something. He could tell by the slight twitch of the corner of his lip and the furrow of his brow. The boy was too easy to read, until he didn't want to be. That was when he really scared Negan.

Entering the main hall of the Saviors base was appalling for Carl. Dozens of men stood below the balcony, waiting. When they caught sight of Negan's black boots, all chatter was abruptly cut off. One by one, they kneeled. Setting their weapons to the side, they got on one knee and looked up to _their_ Savior. The man who ran it all.

Carl caught sight of Daryl, mopping towards the back of the place. His friend scoffed and continued mopping. It would've made Carl smile, until one of Negan's guards grabbed him and yanked him to the ground. He'd never willingly kneel to a man like Negan.

Negan smiled, leaning against the iron rails, looking at all his minions below. There was no denying that he enjoyed being in control. To have all the eyes on him. All the rules made by him. Power was addicting once one knew its full potential.

He started tapping the rail. A loud, swift clank of wood on metal as he assumed his position overlooking his assembly of men. "On your feet," he ordered then watched his army stand.

"Hold that for me," he whispered to Carl as he handed Lucille off to the boy. It was an incredibly stupid move, in all honesty. Carl couldn't deny the need that swelled within him to use Negan's own instrument of torture on him. He had a chance of striking a killing blow, if he angled just right and hit him hard enough. He'd at least fuck up his face pretty good. The temptation was almost overwhelming. So, why did Carl let his arm hang limply by his side, wielding the bat? He would probably die, but it would be worth it if he damaged Negan in any way.

In the end, all Carl could do was follow behind Negan quietly. Anger and hurt swirling within his gut as he tried to decipher his complex emotions.

"You know the deal," he addressed the crowd. His stance was powerful and dominant as his large hands grasped the railing. "Whats about to happen is gonna be hard to watch... I don't wanna do it," Carl noticed the flash of their eyes meeting. He wished he saw remorse, maybe even sadness. All he saw was pity. "I wish I could just ignore the rules and let it slide, but I can't. Why?" he asked his men.

"The rules keep us alive," the crowd's answer echoed in unison.

"That is right," Negan exclaimed. "We survive... We provide security to others. We bring civilization back to this world... We are the Saviors," he proclaimed and Carl could finally understand why so many people listened and willingly aided him. As the words left his lips, he was believable. He knew how to word things properly to get people to follow him. He provided a safe place, in exchange for following his rules. Breaking those rules, meant punishment. He built a haven and he offered hope. Or at least some deformed version of it. It worked for him.

"We can't do that without rules.. Rules are what make it all work. I know its not easy, but there is always work, there is always a cost." He grew more heated and angry as he spoke. "Here, if you try to skirt it, if you try to cut that corner!" His voice escalated on the last part as he grew more agitated.

"Then it is the iron for you," and his voice was a menacing whisper then. The words sending a shiver down Carl's spine.

Negan slowly descended down the stairs. Once he was at the bottom of them, the surrounding people parted and made a pathway for the two. Slowly, Negan circled Mark. The fool who's face was about to be ruined. _Too bad_. Negan could see why one of his wives was attracted to him. Picking up the large glove, Negan slid it on, watching Mark grow more and more nervous with each passing second. The man was fidgeting in his seat, breathing heavily as sweat poured off him. He was a restrained to the chair, facing the burning furnace he was about to become all too familiar with.

Carl watched as Negan took the iron from Dwight. The boy felt bad for Dwight, in a way. From the looks of his expression, he was probably having flashbacks. It hadn't been that long since he'd met the iron.

"Mark, I'm sorry... but it is what it is." Negan said and for a moment, Carl thought he recognized a glimpse of genuine sympathy in his eyes. Maybe he just wished that he'd saw it. Either way, none of it matter. Negan still had to do what he had to do.

The hiss of the scalding metal hitting flesh was burned into Carl's ears. An agonizing scream rang out, mingling with the burning smell beginning to waft in the air. Some people flinched, covering their mouths as the blistering iron melted away the skin of Mark's face. Carl couldn't do anything but watch. It was as if his eyes were transfixed, permanently stuck on the horror unfolding before his eyes. Negan held the iron to Mark's face for several seconds before pulling it away, a thick rope of skin snapping and dangling from the heated iron. Carl didn't want to look at Mark's face. He couldn't. He knew the image would then be burned into his brain forever. The goosebumps brought on by his screams were bad enough and each breath made him want to vomit profusely.

After a moment, the guy who was punished went limp, passing out as a stream of liquid leaked onto the floor below him. Distantly, he recognized Negan's voice telling Daryl to clean up the mess before he felt a small tugging at the back of his shirt.

"C'mon, kid," Negan said before walking back the way they'd came. Quickly, Carl followed, anxious to leave the area. Anywhere that didn't reek of burnt flesh.

Keeping his gaze faced down, Carl was deep in thought as they walked. They were almost back to Negan's room when he stumbled forward, slamming into the older man's stilled frame. Two hands shot out to steady the kid, but didn't release him for a moment.

Finally, Carl directed his gaze upward, looking frustrated and confused by the older man. The boy was filled with exhaustion once more and barely able to process all that had occurred. After constantly having to cope with incredibly traumatic incidents so often, Carl had enough. Of course, he'd grown used to it to some extent, but today was a different story.

Negan had halted in his tracks and his eyes were boring into Carl's good eye intensely, occasionally glancing over the ghost of his other eye. Large hands remained tightly clasped onto Carl's shoulder for another moment, until Negan dropped them.

"Carl, I..." There was a battling waging within the shadows of Negan's eyes. A conflicted look claimed his features and he sighed heavily, pushing thick fingers through his slicked back hair. Carl knew he wanted to say more. The younger man _needed_ him to say more. Something... anything. The touch of guilt mingling with his expression stunned Carl. "I'm sorry." Negan mumbled, then turned and continued walking towards his quarters.

Carl stood, completely frozen as he watched Negan retreat. Thats what it felt like. It felt as if the older man was running away to keep himself from saying more.

What was he sorry for? Was he sorry for punishing Mark or only the fact that Carl had to watch him do it? Was he sorry for killing his friends? Those two simple words could be interpreted so many different ways. All they served to do was confuse the kid even more on his stance with Negan. When he felt like he was understanding him, Negan threw him off his trail by doing something like apologizing to him. There was an endless amount of blood on his hands. That was a fact that would always remain. Perhaps Negan felt the urge to clean them now, the boy thought. With numerous questions lingering in his brain, Carl wandered back to his room. Once again fighting in vain to comprehend a man who seemed to have more depth than Carl thought.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave comments to let me know what you think! :)


	3. Cornered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit, Carl swore internally and turned to run the opposite way. He'd barely moved an inch when he noticed two more men appear in front of him, affectively blocking his way. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew he was fucked.

Two weeks.

Carl had lived with the enemy for two _long_ weeks. He'd slept a couple doors down from plenty of his lackeys and had somehow grown used to the crowded place. The noisy cafeteria where most of them ate their meals or relaxed throughout the day wasn't as threatening anymore. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd become slightly accustomed to the small room he was assigned. It was down the hall from Negan's room and whether that was convenient for him or Negan, he wasn't so sure. Inside, it contained an oddly comfortable cot and a withered oak dresser for some of his belongings. Most of his clothes were gathered by Negan's men during the last few days, since he didn't have a chance to pack anything from Alexandria before his arrival. There were a few books and comics lying around as well, probably left behind by the previous occupant. In any case, Carl was grateful for them. They'd become welcome company during the early hours of the morning when the troubled youth couldn't sleep.

During the days that had passed, Carl spent most of the hours inside the four walls, idly reading or drowning in his own thoughts. However, those moments of solitude only lasted until Negan retrieved him from his room to quell his own boredom.

Countless hours elapsed watching Negan give orders, managing their complex arrangement of the geeks outside that guarded their base or simply talking. The older man would ask him personal questions, never attempting to ease in or break the ice. No, he wanted to peel back the layers and break down Carl's carefully crafted walls, anxious to poke and prod at the intricate parts hiding beneath. The parts that hurt. Carl found himself willingly telling Negan about his mother, before she died. How they'd survived from the beginning, how frightening it all was, then finally reuniting with his dad. He spoke about her death, witnessing Judith's birth and then having to permanently kill his mother so she wouldn't become one of _them_. The numerous friends they lost along the way and the homes they'd grown to love that were stolen from them.

So much blood had been spilled and it seemed to Carl that all he knew was loss. Always loss. The cycle was vicious and it seemed to be perpetual. 

Amid his stories, he was startled by the genuine interest dwelling in Negan's usually cold eyes. He listened intently, never cutting the youth off. Only asking the occasional question when he craved more detail. The tales Carl told seemed to feed a darker part of Negan, where the fascination with Carl originated and each inconsequential detail was catalogued. And the teen would be lying if he said that reliving these memories didn't relieve some part of him. A sort of weight moved from his shoulders as he spoke of his past.

Today, however, Carl hadn't seen or heard from Negan at all. Deciding to skip breakfast when Negan didn't come get him, the younger man remained in his room ever since. The day seemed to drag by and he spent most of it reading until the growl of his stomach became too significant. For another hour, he tried to disregard the ache, then it grew intolerable.

There were never any rules laid out about his wandering about Sanctuary. Perhaps that was because Negan had always accompanied him. Nevertheless, he figured that Negan wouldn't mind since he wasn't trying to escape.

Hesitantly, the door to his room was cracked open as Carl peered out into the hallway. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly and appear dark and rather uninviting. Otherwise, it was clear. The pain in his stomach couldn't be ignored any longer. With no other options, Carl slipped out into the dim hallway and walked briskly towards the dining hall. It was easy enough to remember the way on his own and he'd been fortunate enough not to run into anyone on the way.

Once he arrived at his destination, he kept his head down and drew little attention to himself as he retrieved his food. Negan's point system didn't apply to him, so he could get whatever his heart desired. Opting for something light to hold him over until dinner, he grabbed an assortment of fruit; an apple, grapes, strawberries and what he thought were peaches and a bottle of water. Usually, Negan and Carl stayed and ate with the others but he decided that wouldn't be a good idea on his own and left through the doors he'd entered.

He was halfway back to his room when he heard distinct whistling. The tune brought back memories of that horrible night and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand in fear. Carl's head snapped behind him, eye zeroing in on the tall man suddenly emerging from some dark corner of the hallway.

"Hey, you little shit." As the harsh words left the strangers lips, Carl caught sight of something glinting from the light in his closed palm. _A knife_.

 _Shit_ , Carl swore internally and turned to run the opposite way. He'd barely moved an inch when he noticed two more men appear in front of him, affectively blocking his way. Without a doubt in his mind, he knew he was fucked. Maybe if it were two, he could have devised some trick and found an escape route. But three? It seemed utterly impossible.

Carl steeled himself, instinctively rolling his shoulders back. If he was going to die, then he wasn't going down without a fight.

"You killed my brother," the lone man behind Carl roared before he began charging towards him with the knife. Carl turned, hurling the apple straight at the man's face, making him stumble and fall to his knees with his hand clasping around his nose in shock. Carl jumped on the distracted man then, tackling him to the ground. Carl punched him once, twice, three times in the face. The man's grip had slackened on the knife. Just as the teen went to grab the weapon, he felt two pairs of hands yanking him away from the bloodied man.

"Stupid fuckin' brat!" The man yelled as he clumsily got back on his feet. 

No matter how hard Carl fought against the two men holding him, he couldn't seem to escape their grasp. The man he attacked had blood gushing from his nose and there was a cut along his brow that would _definitely_ need stitches. He wiped the blood from his nose, turning his murderous gaze upon the captive youth. He was injured pretty badly, but that wasn't enough to keep him down.

The man loomed above Carl, wound his fist back and launched it into the teens jaw. "Useless... fucking... brat!" Each word was accentuated by a blow now directed into his ribs. The final hit caused Carl to gasp, blood slowly dripping from his busted lip as he attempted to catch his breath.

" _Negan!_ " the boy mustered up enough strength to shout. His body sagged with each punch, but he never stopped struggling against his captors. Over and over again, Carl cried out _his_ name as loud as he could until a coarse hand covered his mouth.

The vicious hits along his abdomen never ceased, the man seeming to grow angrier with each strike. Summoning up the last of his energy, Carl gained purchase on the hand covering his mouth to bite until he felt the skin give way under his teeth.

"Fuck!" The man hollered and in an instant, Carl was dropped on the floor. "That bastard bit me," the man behind him whined. While he nursed his wounded hand, the other two picked up the slack and began kicking the youth. Each kick driven into Carl's body was agony, causing tears to well within his eye. His lung burned with each attempt to swallow air. The unrelenting onslaught persisted as blows ranged all along his battered body. Eventually, the young man felt numb to the splintering pain. Somehow, he found his voice once more.

As his throat closed and his mouth filled with drops of crimson, all he could think about was... "Negan," his voice came out jumbled and foreign to himself, a mere whisper amongst the sea of grunts and laughs as the men overexerted themselves. The last thing Carl felt was the cool end of the knife pressing against his burning throat.

Everything went black as he silently begged for the mercy of death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed. More to come soon xo


	4. Almost Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I had to retype the whole thing my pc lost the file so I'm sorry. T_T Anyways, enjoy!!!
> 
> This chapter is going to centered mostly around Negan's perspective, so we can get more detail about what happened.

Throughout the years, Negan had grown to know better than anyone else that you could either adapt to this lifestyle or simply perish along with the walkers. The world had hardened Negan and with his newfound brutality, he crafted _his_ new world order. Pieced together an empire and recruited dozens of people to fight to keep it all secure. In this cruel life, you either take or get everything you care for taken. However, taking never guaranteed the safety of your loved ones, nor did it guarantee your own survival. But it was the best shot anyone had at having some sort of life.

Unbeknownst to Carl, he started to rouse some intimate side dwelling within Negan that had been dormant for years. At first, it arose slowly. Doubts about some of his decisions swirled in the back of his mind while he pondered how the young man might've handled things differently. Sometimes he'd see understanding, other times anger and contempt swimming in that blue eye. The look he loathed most of all were the ones he couldn't decipher. The kid sure could lock himself up tight when he didn't want to be analyzed.

Negan found himself wanting to conceal the ugly truth about certain things as well. He was aware of just how much the kid had been through. Realized the battle he'd fought alongside his family in the name of surviving. Carl faced plenty more trials than most of Negan's men and he was capable of handling almost anything Negan could throw at him. That was just it, though. The need to harm him in any way had subsided. Instead, replaced by the need to protect him. The need to take whatever actions means necessary to see him thrive.

Lately, Negan had been scrutinizing him in an attempt to understand him better. A habit had begun to develop out of it. In so many ways, he was unlike anyone surrounding him. Never scared to speak his mind or do what he felt was right. Negan tried to figure out when and why his attachment for the boy bloomed, but it was all in vain. He simply couldn't explain it.

-

The day started out busier than most and grew increasingly stressful. Daryl made a timely escape as Negan oversaw the newest additions to their walker maze out front. Early that morning, there were a few roamers that happened upon their camp and beefing up the entrance was never a _bad_ idea. However, that left certain guard stations unoccupied, so he supposed Daryl used that to his advantage. While his escape angered the head Savior, he knew it wouldn't make that much of a difference. A part of him still wanted Daryl to become a member of the Saviors. The potential inside him was promising. But with Carl in his possession, that temptation was dulled significantly.

As the day progressed, he barely had a chance to breathe, much less go check on the kid. Dwight radioed him as soon as he woke up that things were getting nasty by the front, so he got dressed then went to lend a hand. Besides, the teenager was intelligent and Negan had never doled out any rules confining him to his room, so he figured the kid could fend for himself for one day.

Finally, after hours of tending to his priorities as Leader, he was finished for the day. Deciding to go check on the teen, Negan was halfway to Carl's room when he heard it.

" _Negan!_ "

The hoarse scream echoed down the hall, chilling him to the very core. Goosebumps erupted along his skin as his stomach plummeted and dread filled his mind. _No_. Immediately, he broke out into a run. "Negan," the voice was fainter now, strained, trailing off into a deep groan of pain. Bursting around the corner, the sight before him made him halt in his tracks.

Carl was pinned to the ground by a brutal assault of harsh blows, ranging along his curled up body. The assailants hovered over him, outnumbering him in size and numbers. Their eyes briefly met before the kids head hung and his entire body went limp. That was when Negan noticed the knife pressing against his pale throat. A droplet of blood oozing out alongside the silver blade.

" _WHAT THE SHIT!?_ " Negan roared, his voice positively murderous.

The brutes assaulting his boy looked forward in shock, dropping the knife on the floor. He stormed forward as the men trembled with terror. Carl looked utterly lifeless on the ground, his grey t-shirt and face covered with copious amounts of dark blood. Skin pale and his body curled into a ball.

 

Standing in front of him was Daniel, the lumbering brute that tried to slice Carl's neck open not two seconds earlier. Now, his hands were in the air, sweat accumulating on his brow and a look of pure horror claiming his features. There was a steady dripping of blood coming from his nose, and the telltale signs of a black eye sprouting on his left eye. From the looks of it, Carl went down swinging, which made Negan proud. That kid stared death in the face without an ounce of fear. The other two men were Matt and Shawn, close friends of Daniel and obviously _just_ dumb enough to go along with his idiotic plan. Negan recalled Daniel being the brother of one of the men Carl mowed down upon his arrival. Either way, their reasoning didn't matter one bit to him.

Locking Lucille in a deadly grip, Negan lunged forward.

All that remained was red. All he _saw_ was red. Negan's vision coned as the rest of the world faded away. A dull ringing in his ears started as the craving for revenge consumed his entire being.

One fierce swing put Daniel out of his misery. Negan's barbed wired beauty connected to the left side of Daniel's head with a sickening crack. It seemed like an overly dramatic cartoon, his cheekbone instantly being crushed and his ear ripped away with Lucille. The remainder of his skin was maimed and now profusely spewing blood onto the floor beside him. As blood began to pool around Daniel's face, Negan turned on the remaining two men.

"Negan, come on! The little fuck had it coming," Matt said, still holding his hands up. However, he knew his Leader would never accept a surrender or even an apology. This was a betrayal that would _not_ be taken lightly.

"That's not for _you_ to decide!" On his last word, he swung again. The bat connected with Matt's ribcage, leaving him breathless and gasping for air as he crumpled to the ground. Meanwhile, Shawn made the mistake of trying to grab at the bat-wielding man. In one fell swoop, Shawn's feet were knocked out from under him and he landed flat on his ass. Raising Lucille over his head, Negan's eyes met those of the sorry fool below him. Blood splattered over his prestine clothes as he bashed Shawn's brains in. With great enthusiasm, he crushed each of their skulls in until they were unrecognizable mush, smashed under his worn boots. They deserved that much.

In an instant, Lucille was discarded amongst the mess, riddled with blood, her thirst quenched. All his attention was focused on Carl now as he leaned over the teens body. In his current state, he seemed so fragile and small. Unlike anything Negan had ever seen.

"I'm sorry, kid," he whispered.

The teenager felt unbelievably cold as Negan searched his small wrist and slender neck for a sign of a pulse. A sigh of relief left his lips when he felt a soft heartbeat thrumming faintly beneath the skin. Hazel eyes slipped close momentarily as Negan leaned his forehead against Carl's shoulder.

"Thats my boy," he gently praised, then cautiously scooped the teenager into his arms.

Both of them were covered in grime and blood, their clothes in a state of disarray. As Negan jogged towards the infirmary, he took solace in the feathery wisps of air occasionally grazing his neck, letting him know the boy was still breathing. He was still alive. It soothed him to feel the weight of the unconscious youth against his chest.

Once they reached the doctors room, Negan kicked the door open and carefully laid the kid on the empty operating bed. The room was fairly small, but it had shelves full of medical supplies and equipment. Their doctor was seated behind the desk, scrawling into a notebook as he peered over his glasses. 

"What happened?" The doctor asked as he sprang into action, nearly knocking over the desk in his attempt to reach the kid.

"He was jumped, I barely got there in time. I..." he stopped himself, feeling the guilty emotion lodge in his throat. For so long he shoved his guilt down, never stopping to truly think about it. To truly come to terms with it all. Because that was just the way things were. Emotions were to be set on the back burner, so you could survive. It made him hard and unforgiving, but he was still human. He cleared his throat after a moment, voice still gruff. "How bad is he?"

"Well, his heart is beating... weakly. His chest area is very tender, meaning his ribs are either bruised or broken. I'll have to run some test, but first... I have to treat the stab wound on his arm. He's already lost a significant amount of blood."

Sitting beside the bed, Negan knew fully well he wasn't moving until he saw that one baby blue eye staring back into his own. The stubborn teen would probably be pissed at Negan for saving him, which made Negan chuckle halfheartedly. Angry or sad, he didn't give a damn. He was alive. That was enough for now.

A familiar sense of deja-vu made his head start to spin, but he pushed those thoughts away. _No, he's going to live_.

Deciding to distract himself, he pulled the walkie out of it's holster on his hip and radioed Dwight. "Dwight, go down sector 2, near my bedroom and clean up that mess.... You'll know when you see it. It's three bodies and a shitload of blood, so bring some guys to help you. Then, tell everyone else there's a meeting tonight after dinner. Nobody misses, _or it's the iron_ ," he snarled and ended their conversation.

-

Time seemed to inch by like a snail, mere minutes stretching on endlessly. The doctor had to remove Carl's shirt to further inspect the injuries along his abdomen. Negan couldn't help but be entranced by the slumbering teen in front of him. Carl was incredibly pale and even from a distance his flesh looked so... _soft_. He'd also discovered that when he was frantically searching for a pulse along his slender neck.

Thoughtlessly, his eyes roamed over Carl's exposed figure. The teen was slender, but he was far past puberty, so the muscle he'd acquired through the recent years of fighting fit him nicely. It evened out his frame and made him appear toned, instead of lanky and awkward. If Negan were being honest with himself, he was rather pleased with Carl's appearance. His body was appealing.

Although, he'd never admit that out loud.

Cuts and bruises littered his arms, hands and chest. The slice along his arm was worse than the others and ended up needing stitches. Meanwhile, the others only needed a simple cleaning and ointment to stop infection. After that, the doctor began to inspect the large bruise beginning to sprout over Carl's left ribcage. The flesh was irritated and red with the occasional mix of yellow and green tones, but Negan knew it would look absolutely worse in a few hours.

As the doctors hand slid over the tender flesh, Carl groaned in his unconscious state, his eyebrow furrowing and his nose scrunching in discomfort.

"Watch it," Negan growled, gripping the arm of the chair.

The doctor smiled sheepishly and muttered a swift apology before going back to his work. Negan knew he was being irrational and the doctor wouldn't gain anything from causing Carl pain. However, that didn't quell his anger. The suffering had lasted long enough for the teen and he didn't want to cause anymore.

His eyes drifted downwards as the doctor began applying a sort of salve for the pain and fresh bandages. His gaze fixated on an older scar on the lower part of Carl's abdomen. It looked like an aged gunshot wound. With the teen being young even now, it made him wonder how he'd managed to get shot so long ago. The odds of it occurring after the world had gone to shit were high, but he hungered for the details. There were still numerous things he didn't know about Carl, but he desired to. And he planned to change that one day.

Soon, a couple of hours had drifted away. The kid was bandaged and pieced back together. Barely repaired and struggling to breath. Fortunately, his ribs were not broken but they were severely bruised. The doctor advised he take it easy during the next few days.

On the darker side, there was still no physical response besides his breathing. He had yet to open his eyes. The doctor said it would be soon, but he couldn't pin-point exactly when. Doc excused himself after he finished patching Carl up and for that much, Negan was grateful.

As the clock ticked away, Negan's patience grew thinner. Soon, he was pacing around the room, tugging his fingers through his hair. It wasn't until he took notice of the time that he snapped out of his panic-like state.

It was time to address the issue in full. Negan glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping boy.

"Don't wake up without me, kid," he murmured, then turned and exited the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. I just made up the names for the assholes who attacked Carl lol. Hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading. More to come soon xo


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything has a consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited next chapter is finally here! 
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay!! Basically, I was really unhappy with the story. I kept picking out flaws and just couldn't write any further. So, I had to take a break and rethink my reasons for loving this ship. Also, besides working full-time, I am a cosplayer so I just try to write whenever I can! I had been prepping for a convention and that was another reason why I was super stressed lol. Anyways, here it is! I hope the wait was worth it!

The heavy sound of footsteps echoed off the barren walls as Negan stormed down the hallway. The set of his brow, low and furrowed, as a menacing scowl reclaimed his face.

As he entered the meeting hall, there was no buzz that slowed to a halt. No hurriedly whispered words uttered before the crowd became silent. No, the room was already still. Word had spread rapidly like fire through a bountiful forest, catching everyone's nerves ablaze. The news passed through each persons lips long before Dwight had finished mopping up the blood staining the hallway. The tension was felt well before Negan even walked into the room. Eyes darted around the room while anxious minds wondered... _What would he do now?_ Nothing like this had ever occurred and the threat of what was to come fueled the apprehension in the room.

The Saviors didn't know what to expect from their leader even more than usual.

The smugness was absent as well. That signature cocksure, dimpled grin Negan usually displayed just from looming over the people below him was nowhere in sight. No pleasure swam within his eyes from being in complete control. Only rage, so harsh and barely contained, it swirled within him like a raging ocean ready to destroy whatever stepped in his way.

"On your fuckin' feet!" Negan demanded once he saw his men beginning to kneel. Assuming his position, one fist clenched tightly around the iron railing of the balcony, he leaned over and glared down upon the mass of people below. His other hand not daring to loosen its deadly hold on Lucille. This was no time for formality or tradition. Anger rolled off the Savior's Leader as the need for revenge clouded all other judgement.

"Today... was _not_ a productive fuckin' day," he began, voice laced with a ferocity that made men cower as his eyes scanned the faces below. "I had to kill three of my men. _Why?_ Because they forgot who was in charge. They forgot their fuckin' place! Now, if you think you can run the show better, by all means, step the fuck up!" He roared, cracking Lucille against the floor to emphasize the final word he'd spoken. The smile that displayed across his face was bitter and utterly sinister.

"But I promise you, it will _not_ be easy."

Negan was a wolf, looming menacingly over his prey. There was no way in hell he would willingly hand over his Sanctuary. _His_ kingdom. The fight to build his empire had been relentless and grueling. It shaped Negan into the formidable, determined man he was today. Giving up was not a word featured within his vocabulary.

"You do not touch him. You do not look at him. You do not even fuckin' _breathe_ towards him," his voice had dwindled to a growl as he leaned forward. The audience below him seemed to be gathering his instructions clearly, even without mentioning the boys name. They knew what and who belonged to Negan.

"Is that understood!?" He shouted the question angrily.

"Yes, sir!" the unison response rang out loud and clear. As his eyes touched upon each Savior, he saw understanding and compliance in most. But the darker looks stuck out to him. Hate and indifference mingled within those expressions. Perhaps, he'd have to kill more of his men. That thought alone didn't phase him but the thought of Carl being hurt again did. Carefully, he remembered the faces of the defiant looking ones. Most looked unhappy but they wouldn't be an issue. However, there were one or two that could prove troublesome.

"if anyone harms a hair on his head, there will be no iron. Only Lucille. And y'all know how... _thirsty_ she gets," A dark chuckle left his lips as the severity of this words sunk in for the listeners. Lucille was used strictly to kill. Once their brutal beatings began, the duo were unlikely to stop until the victim was dead and nearly unrecognizable. The tension in the room was almost palpable and among the plethora of faces below, Negan witnessed the fight leaving once defiant eyes. _Now_ , it was all clear. If the younger man was bothered that meant certain death. All the Saviors had been privy to his handiwork, so at this point the odds of another slip up were basically nonexistent.

"No exceptions," he snarled.

As Negan made his final glance over the crowd, a particular face immediately drew his attention. Dylan, one of the culprits best friends. They were usually together and always preforming their scouting trips with each other. Their bond had been as strong as brothers.

Negan scrubbed his beard as he began to descend down the metal stairway. The crowd parted wordlessly, watching Negan get closer to his destination. Sweat had begun to gather along Dylan's brow and a flash of guilt passed across his face. _He knew_. And not just what everyone else knew either. No, he'd played a part in it, too. Maybe he kept lookout until Negan showed up, waited for his chance, and split while Negan was bashing in brains. Or maybe they'd just mentioned it in passing. Either way, the fucker knew that was going to happen and he said nothing. As far as Negan was concerned that warranted an ass kicking just as much.

As the Leader of the Saviors loomed over the nervous man, he immediately caved. "I... I'm sorry, Negan! I didn't want to help, I told 'em! I swear! He said he'd kill me if I told! I didn't know what to do! Please... please, don't kill me," He whined, cowering beneath him as he quaked with fear.

"You made a choice," Negan sighed. "Not my fuckin' issue if it was a dumb one," he sneered, then threw his fist into the coward's jaw. The crack was sickening and the blow landed the man on the floor. Negan let loose, then. Maybe it was because of all the pent up aggression already threatening to boil over inside him. Or the fact that he really _really_ wanted to punish someone else. It didn't seem like enough. Even as the skin of his own knuckles split open and their blood mingled as Negan's assault continued. Even as a bloodied tooth skittered across the floor. He didn't stop for seconds. Minutes. Until the punching bag finally went limp against the floor.

Negan stood upright, chest heaving as he regained control over it and himself.

"Someone pick up his fucking teeth and clean up the goddamn mess," he growled before heading back up the steps and exiting out the door he entered.

Exhaustion permeated from the man once he was finally on his own. The weight pressing upon his shoulder was exponentially worse. Sleep had often evaded him and his mood was plummeting by the minute. The threat of bashing in someones skull was more likely and that fact was evident by all his followers.

The blame for Negan's newfound stress could all be attributed to the battered, one-eyed boy sleeping peacefully in the doctor's office.

He entered the room to find Carl still sleeping soundly and the doctor absent. Rarely was Negan offered the chance to see the kid in such a docile state. Long brown locks of wavy hair fanned out along the white pillow. Carl's hair was slightly past his shoulders now and Negan would be lying if he said it wasn't a pleasant sight. Gently running his fingers through the chocolate locks, he was surprised at how silken the strands were. The skin that was currently paler than usual was slowly regaining color, probably from the warmth of the blanket. Aside from the young man's mutilated eye, Negan found his gaze lingering upon his lips. They were incredibly plump and rosy. Entirely too inviting for their own good.

**_What the fuck was I thinking?_ **

The lack of sleep and pure hell the last few hours had been were obviously wearing down upon Negan. Releasing a sigh as he pushed his dark locks away from his face, he tried to regain his composure. Clearly, there was something special about the kid. He was damn near fearless, never scared to go against Negan whenever he didn't agree. The kid didn't take any shit from anyone. He was a lot smarter than half the grown men surrounding him and way better with a gun, even missing a fucking eye. In some ways, he reminded Negan of himself. The trials alone the kid had to face would've made some people put a gun to their head and end it all. But not Carl. Negan felt a weird sort of admiration for the teen budding within his chest. He cared for the kid and that thought scared the shit out of him.

What the hell was this kid doing to him?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm not sure how long this will go on, it will be kind of a slow-burn, but I'll update as frequently as possible. :)


End file.
